


Stay With Me

by savedatlast



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Fallen Castiel, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, POV switches around a lot sorry, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2053848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savedatlast/pseuds/savedatlast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is tired of Cas always leaving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of my first fic, which I deleted a little while ago. It was only meant to be a one shot, but I had received comments on FF saying I should make it longer and so I tried, but I quickly lost the plot and just plain lost interest. But I did like the original little drabble, so I edited it and am posting it again. I also changed the title.
> 
> Takes place after season 8. Sam is alright, and Cas has been staying with them for a few weeks.
> 
> Enjoy :3

A Difficult Decision

\---

As the impala cruises down the highway, they sit in relative silence. It’s not a comfortable silence, and the tension is easily perceived, even by Castiel, who has often been ignorant of such human states.

They’re out on a grocery run for the bunker, something he and Dean had been doing together every week since the angels fell and Castiel came to stay with the Winchesters. Castiel has enjoyed these little trips, and knows he’ll miss them when he heads off on his own next week to try and gather his fallen brethren. He’s vowed to provide assistance in any way he can, as it was once again his naivety that created this mess. Perhaps it’s the same naivety now that has him at a loss to discover the source of this uncomfortableness.

Dean had gone quiet and pensive somewhere in the produce section. At first, Castiel hadn’t noticed the change in the shared atmosphere, but when he’d asked Dean a question regarding what kind of pie they should get while traversing the baked goods, and Dean had replied with a short “I don’t care” and then stalked off to mull over Sam’s requested 12 grain bagels, he knew something was up. Dean was never flip about pie.

It was then that Castiel really looked at his shopping partner. His shoulders had tensed up and it seemed as if he was thinking hard about something unpleasant. From afar it might have looked as though Dean was merely unimpressed with his brother’s choice in breakfast food, but Castiel knew somehow it was something else, something bigger. He’d tried to talk to Dean, but was met only with noncommittal gestures and a silencing glare once or twice, and thereafter the uncomfortable silence had fallen swiftly.

The ex-angel now spares a furtive glance at Dean, not knowing what to say to move them past the strange and awkward silence in which they find themselves. Dean’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel in an effort to maintain composure, and he hasn’t made any indication in the past twenty or so minutes that he’s going to open his mouth and start talking, so Castiel decides he may as well give up. He’s been around Dean long enough to know that once he shuts down, there’s no getting him to talk.

Maybe Castiel has read the signals wrong, and Dean merely wants to listen to the radio in peace and quiet; he knows how much Dean likes his music. It’s far more likely that Castiel has once again misgauged human emotions.

He returns to staring out the window and absently thinks that he should try to brush up on such things now that he, too, is human, when Dean snaps. He slams his hands down hard on the steering wheel, cursing loudly and making Cas jump. Cas whips his head around to stare, bewildered at Dean, who keeps glancing at him with a semi-embarassed look on his face, while still trying to watch the empty road ahead.

When Dean doesn’t say anything else, Castiel takes the opportunity to further break the silence and ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

Dean huffs in disbelief but only stares at the road, saying nothing.

Castiel can feel frustration building up. Does Dean expect him to read his mind? Even if he was still an angel, he’d sworn never to do that. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares petulantly at the hunter, waiting for some sort of proper response. It takes a moment for Dean to notice and when he does, a smile creeps onto his face and he releases his iron grip on the steering wheel to cover his mouth and stifle a laugh.

Castiel does not find this amusing. Nor does he relent, and he continues to stare Dean down in an effort to make him talk. Eventually Dean’s amusement subsides and he reverts to looking discomfited again.

He shakes his head and says, “No, Cas. It’s nothing.”

Castiel doesn’t reply, but Dean catches the disbelieving raised eyebrow in his peripheral vision. He feels a knot forming in his stomach. The way this is headed, Dean might be forced to divulge information that he’s not sure he’s ready to dig up. He’s not ready for that conversation.

He tries to dissuade Cas by turning up the radio and clearing his face of any emotion, “Seriously. Just drop it, okay?”

His passenger scowls at him and then slouches in his seat and starts fiddling with one of the buttons on his recently cleaned but well worn trench coat. Dean tries to shrug it off and act like the brief exchange had all but not occurred, but the blatantly unimpressed look on his friend’s face is giving way to resignation and - if Dean’s not mistaken - a hint of dejection and it’s almost too much to bear. He jabs the power button on the car stereo, cutting off a face-melting Jimmy Page guitar solo that for once wasn’t improving his mood, and sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, suddenly tired. “Cas….”

The former angel looks up from his lap but doesn’t turn to face him. Dean feels a mixture of relief and anguish. As preferable as it might be to have this conversation without Castiel’s bright blue gaze burning a hole in the side of his head, he finds himself unnerved by the guy’s uncharacteristic avoidance of eye contact. He swallows and it catches in his suddenly dry throat, as he struggles to find the words to continue.

Castiel notices Dean open and close his mouth a few times out of the corner of his eye, as if trying to convey something that his brain won’t let out. Finally, Dean manages to say something, though it sounds as if he’s miles away, “You’re gonna leave again.”

He chances a glance at Castiel, who hasn’t moved, but his expression is something unreadable now. He continues with caution, “You’re gonna leave… to go help those…,” he falters because ‘dicks with wings’ doesn’t seem to fit anymore. “I mean – you don’t owe them anything….”

Castiel merely shakes his head, “They’re my family, Dean. It’s my fault they’re here.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean starts to say, but Cas cuts him off before he can finish his thought.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” He says curtly, as if he wasn’t the one trying to get Dean to talk not five minutes ago. He crosses his arms and turns to stare out the passenger side window, signaling an end to the discussion. He’s tried to avoid thinking about the fact that soon he’ll have to leave his friends yet again. It’s never something he wants to do. But circumstances always arise, and he does what he must.

Unfortunately, Dean refuses to let it go that easily, “Well tough shit, Cas, because we’re gonna talk about it anyway.”

He gets no reply, so Dean keeps going, hoping to evoke some sort of response from his friend. “And besides, what have they ever done for you?”

Met with silence, Dean continues haltingly. “They might be your ‘family’ but they don’t…they don’t care about you like we… like I—”

Dean stops himself before he says something he’ll surely regret. He surreptitiously peeks over at Cas, who is looking down at the floor and has uncrossed his arms. His hands are balled into fists resting on the seat on either side of him. Dean taps the steering wheel anxiously and takes a different angle, “What if they don’t want your help. They might be pissed. It could get bloody.”

Nothing but silence again for a moment before Castiel says quietly, “Then it’s nothing less than I deserve.”

Dean feels the anger and frustration rising in his chest before he can process the thoroughly depressed look on Cas’ face. He fights the urge to punch something. Cas just doesn’t understand, he always thinks that everything is his fault, his responsibility.

Dean knows he’s a giant hypocrite. He knows all about blaming yourself for everything, even things outside of your control. He scrubs a hand across his jaw and, after a few moments’ deliberation, settles on, “What about me?”

Castiel seems puzzled, and cants his head like a dog to a whistle, a sight which almost makes Dean laugh, but he remembers he didn’t earn many points with his last show of amusement so he keeps it to himself.

“What do you mean?” Cas asks.

Dean can feel heat creeping up his neck to his ears and hopes Cas doesn’t notice. “I mean… aren’t we family, too?”

Castiel seems to consider this for a moment, then replies, “of course”, which, despite being the preferred answer, does nothing to put Dean at ease.

It only makes him angrier that his best friend is choosing a bunch of indignant fallen angels who will likely want to lynch the guy, over Dean, who actually gives a shit about what happens to him.

Run away with his internal monologue, he says softly, “I wish you’d stay with me”, before he realizes that he’d said it out loud and turns a bright shade of crimson.

Cas hasn’t responded, and he defers glancing over at the fallen angel for as long as he can, but finally curiosity gets the best of him. Cas’ expression is hard to read, but it looks akin to shock. Panic begins to set in and Dean attempts to backtrack to a less mortifying point in the conversation.“Look, I—“

“Pull over,” Cas says stiffly. Dean avoids looking at him and briefly shakes his head, “we’re almost there, let’s just talk about this when we get back.”

“Dean,” Cas turns to glare intensely at him and says in his low, gravelly, I’m-an-angel-of-the-lord voice “Pull over. Now.”

And damn if that voice doesn’t inspire Dean to obey, so he pulls off to the shoulder of the highway, regret and anxiety bubbling up inside him. He kills the engine and doesn’t dare look at his friend for fear that he’ll have disappeared like all the other times, even though he knows Cas no longer possesses the ability to do so.

When Castiel finally does speak, it startles Dean a bit to find out that he’s still there.

“Look at me,” he implores. Dean reluctantly unclasps his seatbelt and forces himself to turn toward Cas, but when he sees the telltale look of self-loathing beginning to surface on Cas’ face he turns away again, unable to see those emotions in his friend when he knows them all too well in himself.

“Dean.” Castiel slumps in his seat with a sigh, “I don’t want to leave… but I have to.”

Dean looks back at Cas and feels pain like a knife twisting in his chest. Cas holds his gaze, “Even if I did stay, what use could you possibly have for me?”

Dean stares as the knife wound quickly gives way to disbelief, not knowing quite how to respond. Cas drops his gaze, and Dean has the urge to take Cas’ face in his hands and make him understand.

“Is that what you think?” he says, a bit sharper than he intended, and instantly regrets it when Cas recoils further.

“That you’re just a – a tool to us – to me?” Cas raises his head and instead of looking at Dean, returns to staring out the window once more, shutting out the conversation.

Dean needs to make him understand.

He grabs Castiel’s shoulder and yanks him around to face him.

“Dean, what—“ Cas starts, eyes questioning as Dean shoots daggers from his. Cas flinches and tries to turn away but Dean holds fast.

“I don’t care if you think you deserve to die. Or if you think that you’re to blame.” Cas has gone rigid and is matching Dean’s charged gaze. “But don’t think for one second that I’m going to let you go off and get yourself killed.”

Cas looks like he’s going to protest and he pulls at Dean’s arms trying to pry himself loose.

Dean debates the pros and cons of what he’s about to do for maybe a half second before he can’t hold back any longer, and he leans forward to press his lips to Castiel’s, effectively cutting off any chance for debate and causing the other man to freeze completely, hands still clutching Dean’s wrists.

Castiel is like stone. He doesn’t push Dean away but he doesn’t reciprocate either. Dean’s brain finally catches up with his actions, and he starts to panic.

He pulls away, releasing Castiel’s shoulders, and after sparing a glance at the stunned ex-angel, runs a nervous hand through his hair and returns to staring out the window. He closes his eyes when he hears the passenger seatbelt release and figures that he can’t blame the guy for wanting to get out of the car and as far away from Dean as is humanly possible.

He barely has time to mull over the fact that he just crossed a pretty big line, or register that the passenger door hasn’t yet opened, before Castiel grabs _him_ by the shoulders and practically leaps on top of him, knocking him backwards as his mouth meets Dean’s with the enthusiasm he initially lacked but appears to have now found.

Once the surprise and pain of being shoved against the door handle subside, Dean replies in kind. His hands grip Castiel’s hips as he runs his tongue along the seam of Castiel’s mouth, urging it to part for him. When it does, he makes a small satisfied sound that he might be embarrassed about if his brain wasn’t currently exploding.

Castiel, who seemed hesitant at first, harbours none of that apprehension now as he smooths a hand under Dean’s shirt and across his stomach. Dean runs a hand through Castiel’s perpetually messy hair as he tries to get closer. Their efforts are impeded by the steering wheel, among other things and Cas huffs impatiently before pulling away and sitting up. Dean stares at the adorable scowl on the fallen angel’s face, hoping to hell and back that he hasn’t changed his mind.

Castiel’s eyes go dark and he clambers off of Dean and growls, “Back seat. Now.”

Dean laughs with relief and mumbles “bossy,” grabbing Cas’ tie and pulling him down for another heated kiss before pushing himself up, and hastily climbing over the front seat, dragging his best friend along with him.


End file.
